


Fastened Together

by Neyiea



Series: Sigrin [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sigrid was younger she'd never had dreams of marrying her one true love, or marrying at all, really.</p>
<p>Considering the news she receives about a proposition, maybe that was for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fastened Together

**Author's Note:**

> A little something self-indulgent, haha. Happy Holidays!

Sigrid is mending the hem of one of her dresses when she's informed that her father has been seen returning from Erebor. She sets aside her needle and thread and goes down to greet him, feeling somewhat perplexed when he expresses a wish to speak with her in private before carefully leading her into his office.

He glances down the hallway, likely ensuring that neither Bain nor Tilda have any plans to eavesdrop, before shutting the door behind him and turning to face her.

She hasn't seen her father look this troubled in years, not since he and King Thorin tentatively made peace once His Majesty had recovered from the wounds he'd sustained during the Battle of the Five Armies.

"Da, what's wrong?" She lays a hand upon his arm and watches with a furrowed brow as her father glances away. "You know you can't keep secrets from me for long, right?"

He chuckles weakly and brings up his opposite hand to cover hers. "I am aware, though I am loath to admit it." He sighs, fingers briefly flexing. "A suggestion was made today concerning how Dale and Erebor could... Strengthen ties."

"Oh?" She leans in, intrigued. There is not a lot of animosity between their people, though the events that lead to the burning of Laketown and the following battle were a grim memory that her generation and the one before it would likely never forget, but one can never be too closely allied with their neighbours. "Would it be more like before, then? Before the dragon came?"

"I don't rightly know, but Sigrid," the way he says her name, overly cautious, has her tensing, "the suggestion involved you."

"Me? In what way?"

His fingers squeeze her hand, tighter this time, as though he is afraid that if he lets go she'll slip away.

"There was talk of you entering into a marriage," here his face twists, but he isn't done yet, "with Thorin Oakenshield."

Surprise is too mild of a word for what she feels in response to this news, astonished seems more apt, as well as greatly confused. Sigrid carefully schools her face into a neutral expression, because she doesn't think either of them would benefit from a visible reaction right now, and she searches to find her voice. She opens her mouth, not entirely sure which of her multitude of questions she would like to ask first, but she pauses when her father holds a hand in front of her lips.

"I wish I held all of the answers, Sigrid, but I must confess that I know very little about the whole situation, or how someone came to the conclusion that that would be the solution to our problems."

Do we have many problems, she wants to ask, but she finds she doesn't have the heart to at the moment.

"In any case, I promised that I would mention it to you, but the choice is yours and yours alone." His hands settle on her shoulders: firm, strong, protective, and his eyes lock with hers. "No one can make you do anything you do not want to do."

That is true enough, she supposes. She has been an adult by her people's standards for years now, and even when she was younger she'd been her own person, more than capable of making decisions.

Still, marriage. She has not often thought of it in regards to herself. Perhaps a fleeting daydream once or twice, but she had been friends with Fíli for four years before she'd felt even the slightest romantic attraction towards him. She had figured, as her affection for him flourished while his own fondness for her grew, that a difficult road would be ahead of them if they ever chose to act on their new feelings. But she never would have dreamt of this.

She needs to sit and think, and try to make sense of the situation.

Sigrid retires to her room early and seats herself in front of a window that looks out over the lake, pursing her lips in thought. 

Though she has been friends with his nephews for nearly five years now, she has not spent a great deal of time around His Majesty. Once in a while she and her family are invited to special dinners or celebrations, but her attention at those times had never been focussed on him, and his had certainly never been focussed on her. Sigrid is sure that she hasn't even seen him in months, not since--

Not since last autumn, on her twentieth birthday. All the dwarves of his original Company had been invited, as well as Lady Dís, though Sigrid had not expected them all to show up. She remembers looking at them with no small amount of wonder, because it was one thing to know that someone could live for over two hundred years but to see them all again, just as they had been when they first took refuge in her father's house while she had changed so much, was a shock.

It had been her pleasure as the hostess to individually thank each of them for coming, and she recalls that King Thorin had said something to her-- a passing comment about her dress, perhaps-- before pressing a box into her hands.

She'd fretted for a moment that it would be jewellery too fine for her to ever wear, but upon opening the case she'd found a simple pair of earrings made with blue lace agate set in gold, and a silken pouch.

"I was told that I should not present you with anything 'gaudy'. I hope that these are to your taste," he had said, and she'd remarked on their loveliness, idly noting that he seemed to relax at her gratitude.

"Still, it did not seem like enough. My nephews informed me that Ladies were also fond of receiving flowers as gifts."

Her eyebrows had drawn up in surprise and she'd opened the pouch to peer inside.

Seeds, she remembers. He had given her seeds.

It had been absolutely impossible for her to bite back her smile, and she'd thanked him for his gifts profusely.

That had probably been the most words they'd ever shared at one time, Sigrid muses as she stares out at the water.

It's at times like this, when daunting decisions are looming over her, that she misses the simple life of being a barge-man's daughter. If she were still Sigrid of Laketown, not Lady Sigrid of Dale, she probably could have become a spinster and no one would mind. But she's not that girl anymore, and there are certain things that her people expect of her, and certain responsibilities that she has to shoulder.

She sighs.

Perhaps it is a good thing that she is not a romantic sort of person. Perhaps it is a good thing that the only one who she'd even briefly entertained the thought of being with had been a dear friend long before any other feelings had made themselves known.

One night of unfocussed thinking is not enough for her to come to a conclusion, but in the back of her mind she already knows that there is little she would not do for her people, for her family.

She'd never had extensive dreams about marrying for love. Perhaps that was for the best.


End file.
